


The Sound Under my Tongue

by FandomTrashbag



Series: Pieces of Cake [14]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Aftercare, Bathtub Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I am wholly without shame, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, clean bits are loved bits, sexual health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrashbag/pseuds/FandomTrashbag
Summary: He cares for her in small ways no other partner has. He's certainly willing to help sully her, but he always cleans his messes.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Series: Pieces of Cake [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772494
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	The Sound Under my Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Title and song is "Black Butterflies and Deja Vu" by The Maine
> 
> This started out as just an aftercare fic, then got a little away from me. Still very short; the explicit rating is just to be on the safe side. The point is: remember to keep your naughty bits clean, folx. Sexual health is important and I think finding a partner that cares as much about that aspect of the relationship is important (but also possibly uncommon; my experience is limited). I also feel like it's a very real-world thing that isn't discussed much in fiction (fan or otherwise), so I kind of wanted to touch on it.

**You flash like a setting sun  
You come around, I come undone  
Can't find the sound under my tongue  
When I look at you**

* * *

A romp late in the afternoon wasn’t unheard of, but it had certainly been impulsive. They had each had an incredibly stressful couple of weeks and it had been almost as long since they’d gotten to really see and be  _ with _ each other for more than a few stolen minutes here or there. He’d come through the door to their shared room looking at some document or other with his sharp eyebrows drawn very tightly together and his face screwed up in clear frustration.

“What is it?” Sarah had asked, draping her cargo jacket over the back of a large chair in front of the fireplace.

Jareth stopped dead at the sound of her voice, his expression softening immediately in a kind of relief. It was like seeing her settling into their shared space, their  _ home _ , acted as a balm because he dared hope she was there for more than a moment. In the next several seconds, his face went through a series of changes; it relaxed, faltered, and then twisted into something that held an echo of pain. The papers he’d held drifted to the ground as his long legs closed the distance between them quickly. There was nothing gentle or sweet about what followed.

Feeling concerned for him, she let him lead. He devoured her forcefully, his hands suddenly bare with his slightly pointed nails tearing at her clothes so his hands could touch her skin. His instant passion ignited her own and it took little time for her to keep up with him.

They were hurried and rough, full of teeth and nails. He scraped her bare back against the cool sandstone of the wall and she left angry red trails in return as she gripped the flesh of his ass tightly. When they slid to the floor together, she rode him mercilessly, ignoring the burn in her knees from the friction of the rug underneath. He would find himself fighting to control her hips as her body arched violently off of their bed as he ate at her, a hand buried in his hair with a beautifully painful fist and screaming around the fingers crooked in her mouth.

For several long moments, they laid crooked across the bed along opposite corners, catching heaving breaths as the light in the room dimmed with the early evening. Their arms were stretched out and met in the middle, fingers barely touching and loosely laced. He sighed before slowly sliding off the mattress and tugging her to her shaky feet without a word.

It had become quite the ritual for them, and while she was used to it, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever really  _ adjust  _ to that level of attention. He started early on after noticing her small habits after less-than-spontaneous sex and proceeded to develop a kind of routine. There hadn’t been a ton of discussion about it; he had just gently guided her through motions that she found increasingly relaxing. It looked a little different every time, though the end result was always the same. Of course, she had failed to understand at first that it was his silent way of communicating the feelings he had found himself refusing to fight. It was all a chore he could manage with a graceful flick of his wrist and sprinkle of magic, but he rarely did. Ultimately, she had never experienced this level of care from any of her partners. 

He took her to the washroom, the overlarge tub in the corner already filled with steaming water, and had her kneel in the center. With a soft rag in hand, he proceeded to clean her, starting with her lower body. He took care to clean the creases of her thighs, then very gently rinse the folds of her sex, all the while leaving soft kisses along the tops of her shoulders and down her spine. She noticed the slight tingle of magic along her skin as she felt him heal the small scrapes and scratches around her shoulder blades from the rough stone wall. Once her body was clean, he climbed in to join her where she reciprocated the attention.

She sat facing away from him between his legs as he used a pitcher to wet her hair and his nimble fingers scrubbed at her scalp with her favorite shampoo, smelling of rosemary and mint. Her soft moans had him chuckling warmly at her while she practically melted under his ministrations. He guided her back, tipping her head to the surface of the hot water to start rinsing the suds. Eventually, she let herself float a little, ending reclined with her back along his front, her left hand tracing an angry set of crescent nail marks on his lean thigh.

“It hasn’t been quite like that for a little while,” she said quietly, almost scared to break the silence. There was a fondness to her tone that reminded him that she never disliked their rougher trysts.

He whispered into her hair where he rested his face against the side of her head. “The past fortnight has been unrelenting. When I saw you, it was like I remembered to breathe again.”

She twisted his left hand around in hers, examining it carefully and noting the dark purple bruises forming in little dotted lines from her teeth. The color was a stark contrast to the whites and pinks of the vine tattoo of small flowers that wrapped around his fourth digit. She traced the marks with her lips, leaving soft kisses. He never healed himself quickly, she realized and knew then that there would still be red tracks along his backside, between his shoulders. He would let those heal on his own.

His content hum vibrated through her from his chest. “I enjoy these impressions you leave,” he breathed in her ear. “Though they fade, they match the scars of you along my heart.”

She closed her eyes, settling firmly against him as she felt his right arm wrap around her, his large hand resting low on her abdomen. “Careful, now. I might think you missed me, Goblin King.”

“Oh,  _ precious, _ ” he purred. His hand snaked lower beneath the warm water, moving to massage her languidly and her legs fell open in answer.

Her breath sucked in sharply in a soft gasp. She lifted a leg to hook over the edge to provide him with all the access he wanted, rolling her hips against him gently. Her sun-bronzed skin flushed red as he worked her in a slow and steady rhythm, building her up while he whispered in her ear.

“I missed you next to me in our bed.” He kissed her temple. “I missed your warmth, your  _ touch _ .” Slowly, he slipped a long finger inside of her. He smiled at her soft sigh. “I missed your teeth in my flesh, and your sweet sighs.” He nipped at the shell of her ear. “I missed your ripe  _ peach _ .” He slid in a second finger with the first and moved a touch faster.

She made noise low in her throat and gripped his other hand, now tightly wound with her own, with white knuckles. Her free arm reached behind her, cradling his head firmly. She turned to face him, pressing their foreheads together as her breathing came faster, shorter. The look in his eyes all but set her on fire.

“I missed the way your skin flushes and your grip on me tightens after you’ve been away.” He scissored his fingers and added a third digit, curling the tips as he pumped in and out of her. “I missed the way you keen and cry, a melody to my ears.”

Her jaw was slack in a silent scream as she choked on air, forgetting to breathe entirely as she came harder than she anticipated. He kissed her open mouth tenderly, thoroughly. Once she caught her breath, he took the time to, once more, carefully rinse her sensitive flesh, kissing her slowly all the while.

He dried her with just as much care as he bathed her, helped her step and shimmy into clean undergarments, and slipped one of his large linen shirts over her head. She didn’t like to be carried, so he wouldn’t do that. No, he led her gently, never letting her hand leave his, and settled her into their bed. He crawled in beside her, positively wrapping her with his body, and buried his face in her short, damp waves.

“Don’t worry, your Majesty. I’ll be here in the morning,” she mumbled, kissing the back of his hand as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. She followed soon after, thinking of all the reasons she’d missed him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely have a Spotify playlist I've started making for these two (among other pairings). You can give it a listen if you'd like: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HJ5EnwZzOmVnvA6Ev489v?si=7_T1wT7qT8e2_LFr54h5XA
> 
> I tend to update this throughout the workweek. Occasionally, I get to do nothing but sit in my corner and listen to music while I work, and my playlists are what's come from that.
> 
> I'm also running out of ideas for these guys, so feel free to drop suggestions or requests. Thoughts are appreciated.


End file.
